The Spanish Tragedie Part 17

He goeth in at one doore and comes out at another.

HIERO. Oh, forbeare, For other talke for vs far fitter were!

But, if you be importunate to know The way to him and where to finde him out, Then list to me, and Ile resolue your doubt: There is a path vpon your left hand side That leadeth from a guiltie conscience Vnto a forrest of distrust and feare,-- A darksome place and dangerous to pa.s.se,-- There shall you meet with melancholy thoughts Whose balefull humours if you but [behold], It will conduct you to dispaire and death: Whose rockie cliffes when you haue once behelde, Within a hugie dale of lasting night, That, kindled with worlds of iniquities, Doth cast vp filthy and detested fumes,-- Not far from thence where murderers haue built A habitation for their cursed soules, There, in a brazen caldron fixed by Iove In his fell wrath vpon a sulpher flame, Your-selues shall finde Lorenzo bathing him In boyling lead and blood of innocents.

I PORT. Ha, ha, ha!

HIERO. Ha, ha, ha! why, ha, ha, ha! Farewell, good ha, ha, ha!

Exit.

II PORT. Doubtles this man is pa.s.sing lunaticke, Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote.

Come, lets away to seek my lord the duke.

[Exeunt.]

[ACT III. SCENE 12.]

[The Spanish court.]

Enter HIERONIMO with a ponyard in one hand, and a rope in the other.

HIERO. Now, sir, perhaps I come to see the king, The king sees me, and faine would heare my sute: Why, is this not a strange and seld-seene thing That standers by with toyes should strike me mute?

Go too, I see their shifts, and say no more; Hieronimo, tis time for thee to trudge!

Downe by the dale that flowes with purple gore Standeth a firie tower; there sits a iudge Vpon a seat of steele and molten bra.s.se, And twixt his teeth he holdes afire-brand, That leades vnto the lake where he doth stand.

Away, Hieronimo; to him be gone: Heele doe thee iustice for Horatios death.

Turne down this path, thou shalt be with him straite; Or this, and then thou needst not take thy breth.

This way, or that way? Soft and faire, not so!

For, if I hang or kill my-selfe, lets know Who will reuenge Horatios murther then!

No, no; fie, no! pardon me, ile none of that:

He flings away the dagger & halter.

This way Ile take; and this way comes the king,

He takes them up againe.

And heere Ile haue a fling at him, thats flat!

And, Balthazar, Ile be with thee to bring; And thee, Lorenzo! Heeres the king; nay, stay!

And heere,--I, heere,--there goes the hare away!

Enter KING, EMBa.s.sADOR, CASTILLE, and LORENZO.

KING. Now shew, emba.s.sadour, what our viceroy saith: Hath hee receiu'd the articles we sent?

HIERO. Iustice! O, iustice to Hieronimo!

LOR. Back! seest thou not the king is busie?

HIERO. O! is he so?

KING. Who is he that interrupts our busines?

HIERO. Not I! [aside] Hieronimo, beware! goe by, goe by!

EMBAS. Renowned king, he hath receiued and read thy kingly proffers and thy promist league, And, as a man exreamely ouer-ioyd To heare his sonne so princely entertainde, Whose death he had so solemnely bewailde, This, for thy further satisfaction And kingly loue, he kindely lets thee know: First, for the marriage of his princely sonne With Bel-imperia, thy beloued neece, The newes are more delightfull to his soule Then myrrh or incense to the offended Heauens.

In person, therefore, will be come himselfe To see the marriage rites solemnized And in the presence of the court of Spaine To knit a sure [inextricable] band Of kingly loue and euerlasting league Betwixt the crownes of Spaine and Portingale.

There will he giue his crowne to Balthazar, And make a queene of Bel-imperia.

KING. Brother, how like you this our vice-roies loue?

CAST. No doubt, my lord, it is an argument Of honorable care to keepe his freend And wondrous zeale to Balthazar, his sonne.

Nor am I least indebted to his Grace, That bends his liking to my daughter thus.

EM. Now last, dread lord, heere hath his Highnes sent-- Although he send not that his sonne returne-- His ransome doe to Don Horatio.

HIERO. Horatio? who cals Horatio?

KING. And well remembred, thank his Maiestie!

Heere, see it giuen to Horatio.

HIERO. Iustice! O iustice! iustice, gentle king!

KING. Who is that? Hieronimo?

HIERO. Iustice! O iustice! O my sonne! my sonne!

My sonne, whom naught can ransome or redeeme!

LOR. Hieronimo, you are not well aduisde.

HIERO. Away, Lorenzo! hinder me no more, For thou hast made me bankrupt of my blisse!

Giue me my sonne! You shall not ransome him!

Away! Ile rip the bowels of the earth,

He diggeth with his dagger.

And ferrie ouer th' Elizian plaines And bring my sonne to shew his deadly wounds.

Stand from about me! Ile make a pickaxe of my poniard, And heere surrender vp my marshalship; For Ile goe marshall vp the feends in h.e.l.l, To be auenged on you all for this.

KING. What means this outrage?

Will none of you restraine his fury?

HIERO. Nay, soft and faire; you shall not need to striue!

Needs must he goe that the diuels driue.

Exit.